


World of Ghosts

by LoudSymphony



Category: Battlefield (Video Games)
Genre: War, World War I, i try to keep my facts straight though, obviously fictional, will probably expand this stuff soon, wrote this when i was crazy for battlefield 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-27 13:57:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19014289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoudSymphony/pseuds/LoudSymphony
Summary: Original Summary: Hi! This was my first story, or rather a collection of stories I first made over 1 and a half years ago back when I was obsessed over Battlefield 1. Its not by any means good, but I hope you guys enjoy! ~First uploaded on May 2019, on Fanfiction.netI will probably expand this collection soon. I seem to have rekindled my interest in war stories.





	1. The Diary

Argh, damn it. The Germans have pinned my battalion down here. I know I shouldn't be writing journals in a time like this, but I need to get it all out. If any of my family reads this, I'm sorry for leaving.

I am part of the Meuse Argonne offensive. Armed with a wooden bolt-action rifle, a Colt M1911 and a few frag grenades, we marched through the line of the Fritz, determined to take them down and ease up the stalemate that is causing so much of our buddies trouble over at the Somme. We stormed through the German lines in a human wave tactic. "Overwhelming the enemy" don't really work well when the defenders have a dozen Emma Gees loaded and ready to fire. In three waves, we managed to capture the first trench. Many of my fellow comrades died in the suicidal attacks. I was lucky to survive unscathed. Unlucky to push on. At least the Germans had the decency to aim for the head. A quicker, painless death.

We reinforced the trenches, firing as many rifle rounds as we can to stop the German storm troopers from entering the trenches and slaughtering us all. Those soldiers, elite, professional and an undying will to defend their motherland. It almost scared me, how much determination they have to kill every single one of us. I even witnessed a German rushing into one of my fellow soldiers with two hand grenades in hand. A desperate attempt to take down at least another enemy with him.

Reinforcements started marching in. There are more soldiers entering the trenches, getting ready to push into the ballroom. Our platoon sergeant commanded us to get ready to push forward into the enemy lines. He told us that there will be five landships coming in, courtesy of the French. We heard the sputter of engines, the smashing of treads into the undergrowth. The landships were here to smash through the German lines.

We climbed out of the trenches with a battle cry. Sounds of a thousand men charging to their deaths, in hopes that their mothers and sisters back home do not suffer the same atrocities we did. We charged valiantly with our bayonets out. Our objective were to capture a tiny row of houses and fountain which had massive artillery guns. Those guns could lay waste to the entire city of London in a matter of minutes. It was vital to our next offensive.

The sound of bullets whizzing through the air. Charred dust scorching our lungs. The jagged rocks exposed, after thousands of artillery fire, stabbing our boots. The screams of men being shredded by the enemy machine guns. The walls of the shattered buildings seemed to cry, with black tears sliding down the walls. The mere sight of it could make any man tear up, but I couldn't let it get to me. We needed to end the Great War.

We captured the objectives and proceeded to push into the mansion. It was one of the most gruesome moments of my short life. Dismembered fingers lie on the corridors of the mansion. A man was brutally impaled with a makeshift spear made of a steel pole with a sharp, wooden end. Dozens of men lie in the dining room, with pale-green skin and blood on their mouths and noses. The mustard gas killed them before they could use their gas masks. Blood stained the brick walls of the compound. I still remember so vividly, the body of a German soldier with hundreds of bullet holes in his torso. He was turned to literal cheese.

After a long, gruelling battle, we captured our first main objective. The railway station. It was a supply depot for the Germans, moving food, water and ammunition through massive cargo trains. Capturing it meant that one of the supply lines of the Germans were cut off, potentially breaking a stalemate over on the Western Front. We slept on the hard floors, fatigued by the constant battling and mentally scarred by the death of fellow soldiers.

The next day, we marched out into the Argonne forest. We were to capture as many yards of land as possible to shift the Fritz' focus onto us. We'd buy our French and tea drinking buddies some time to prepare a counter attack. This also meant that we are sure as hell are going to die. Luckily for me, I was moved to the last battalion, complete with a fresh platoon to lead.

Well, I guess you know how this all ends. Halfway through the offensive, the Germans stormed in and massacred half of our men in a barrage of gas and fire. We retreated back to the Ritz bunker, awaiting our impending doom. We have orders to vacate the damned forest of hell immediately, but we have to hold the line. Letting the Germans retake the railway station is a terrible idea.

As I write this, we are waiting for the Germans to attack. According to my prior knowledge, it is now around midnight. This may be the very last moments of my life, but I will fight until my last dying breath. We will not go down without a fight. Mom, thank you for taking care of me for eighteen years. I know I have been rebellious and one hell of a kid to take care of, but deep inside, I love you very much. Thank you Dad, for supporting the family, slaving away in the factories to make sure we have three meals every day. I am sorry for all my sins and all the trouble I've cost you. May the spirit of Liberty be with us.


	2. Last Man Standing

I walk on the fields of this deserted wasteland. What used to be a fertile farmland, brimming with life and culture, has now been rendered to charred stone. Bodies lie across the fields of No Man's Land, shredded and torn by the machine guns of the trenches. I reflected back on the few hours before all of this, recounting the few moments before the artillery guns striked the earth with mighty, relentless blows.

I was in a trench with a Lewis machine gun. We were fortifying our defenses, as we just received news of the Germans using a reckless but powerful tactic to overwhelm our defenses. Our commanders called it the Kaiser's fist, because every strike seemed like a giant punch barreling through our trenches. I finished loading my weapon, awaiting their suicidal charge.

After what seemed like an eternity, we heard the battle cry of the Elite German army, followed by loud footsteps. I clumsily put my heavy gun on the dirt outside the trench and begun firing away, suppressing the German horde in hopes that they could not reach the first trench. A futile effort. The Germans captured the first trench and slaughtered all the soldiers left in there. I was in the third trench, and it was only a matter of time until they reached me. I reloaded my gun again, anticipating another charge.

The Germans mounted another offensive, determined to purge the trenches and claim more yards of land for the Central Powers. They came in hundreds, unlike any charge I've ever seen before. We managed to mow down the first two waves of the Kaiser's horde. Dead bodies lie the ground between the trenches, with destroyed barb wire and fragments of landmines lying among them.

There was only silence now. No screaming, no whirr of Maxim guns getting ready, no footsteps except for my allies over at the second trench. I took a few deep breaths to calm myself down. It was a bad idea though, because there was a lot of hot dust in the air due to constant artillery and mortar barrages. I loaded my now empty Lewis gun and reminded my platoon in my trench to reload their weapons and prepare for another wave.

Suddenly, two Sergeants hopped into my trench. The sound of the boots landing on the undergrowth and the clank of guns and bayonets clashing with each other took me off guard.

"Alright men! We have received orders to counter attack these blasted Germans! When the landships pass over your trench, climb out of your filthy mudhole you call a trench, march into the battlefield and slaughter every single one of these sodding cowards!" The two sergeants ordered. They tried to put on a serious, nasty demeanor. However, I could see they were shaking nervously and their voice stretched and coarse from constant shouting. They quickly climbed out of the trench with deft hands and marched towards the second trench, being careful not to get shot by any watching German snipers.

The sputter of engines could be heard. The landships were coming. An army of steel, the battalion of death. We knew it was our ticket to ending this war. The landship drove over us like a giant, unyielding boar. It was time to attack. We climbed out of our trench with our lanky arms. Even though we were light due to our malnourished bodies, we still found it hard to climb over the trench. We charged, reflecting the same animalistic fury the Germans showed when attempting to murder us all.

Out on the fields, we could also see Germans marching out of their trench. They had specialised soldiers now, with the Flame Trooper armor and flamethrower and their own tanks. They were moving fortresses, able to mow down an entire army if well-placed and ready. We rushed towards each other. The clash of Titans was about to begin.

It was a gruesome battle. We battled for hours, where day became night, and the darkness looms over the battlefield. Normally this would mean that everyone would retreat, but with the rage of war boiling in our veins, we refused to retreat until every single one of us were blown to bits. There were wooden carcasses of what used to be trees on the dirt, welded to the ground by its roots. The ground was burning, licking anything in its path with dancing flames. War truly is hell.

I can still remember vividly, the rows upon rows of Germans opening fire on us. Our landships attempted to smash through them, but some well-placed howitzers managed to destroy three quarters of the steel battalion before we could punch a hole in their defenses. I witnessed all my comrades dying by the bullet barrage, while the bullets only grazed my skin. An enemy German soldier charged at me with a shovel and knocked me down before I could react. The ruthless soldier that knocked me down was about to bash my skull in with his rusted shovel when we all heard whistling sounds. We looked up, knowing that impending doom is near. Up in the sky, we saw a barrage of artillery bombs from both the German and the Allied sides about to storm the Earth, ravaging everything in its path.

I thought I would have died, but I woke up among the dead, charred bodies on the ground. Everything was on fire, like a Hell on Earth. Everyone around me was gone in a single fell swoop. My comrades always told me I had the luck of the devil, never getting infections from wounds and having near misses with Death itself. Yes, it truly was the luck of the devil. Lucky enough to wake up in a barren wasteland, witnessing the corpses of human friends and the mistakes and sins of the politicians and monarchies back home.

I saw a dim light slowly moving along the dirt. I turned back, and saw the Sun, signalling the dawn of a new day. The dawn of a new beginning. When I was a child, I've always thought that the Sun was fuelled by mankind's hopes and dreams. On this day, it was so bright, caressing the wounded earth and bringing light and salvation to the corpses that have died by their fellow man's convictions. With this light, I felt like I had a new objective. I took a Luger and some ammunition. I scavenged for some rations that were left untouched in the bodies. Lightly armed and shown a new hope, I made my journey back home.

Don't worry Mom, I'm coming home soon.


End file.
